


Poker Night

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Attempt at Humor, M/M, pun warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-31 21:45:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17857532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: after the op...





	Poker Night

[ ](https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/merentha13/21454005/205200/205200_original.jpg)

Wishing he hadn't let Betty leave the office before making him a final pot of tea, Cowley walked towards the rest room to make his own cuppa. Laughter and loud voices leaked through the partially open door. His men. He had sent them off to get the day's reports written. Irritated, he stepped up to the door to clarify that order and then stopped, reconsidering. It had been a rough couple of days. They deserved a bit of a break. Leaning back against the wall, he settled in to watch and listen.

***

Anson, tipped his chair back on two legs, took a deep drag off his cigar and exhaled smoke rings into the air.

Doyle watched with distaste as the circles swirled into a cloud of acrid haze above the card table.

“Disgusting, that.” Doyle waved the annoying stale odour away and bumped Anson’s chair.

Losing his balance, Anson grabbed at the edge of the table, causing poker chips and beer bottles to topple and slide.

“They say cancer cures smoking,” Jax offered, saving his drink and restacking his chips.

Doyle snickered as he dealt out the next round of poker.

“Was some stunt you pulled today, Doyle.” Murphy collected his cards. “Cut it a bit close, yeah?” He dropped two cards on the table and held up two fingers. “Cowley didn’t seem well pleased with you.”

Bodie indicated he wanted three cards; Anson took one. Jax waved him off.

“Cowley got what he wanted – the guns and the money,” Doyle replied with a shrug, giving Murphy his cards. “And scored some points against Willis.”

“Surprised the hell out of ol’ Sean and his gang when you came through the hole in the ceiling,” Jax said with a touch of admiration.

Doyle dealt Bodie his three cards.

“4.5 surprised himself, if I’m not mistaken.” Doyle’s eyes shifted quickly to Bodie’s and then back again. Bodie swept up the cards. “Isn’t that right, my son?”

“Nah. Was well planned, that was.” Doyle gave them all a cheeky grin and passed one card to Anson.

“This too?” Bodie tapped on the brace binding Doyle’s knee.

“Small price to pay to finally catch Willis out.” Doyle brushed Bodie’s hand away. “Wouldn’t like to be him tryin’ to explain his man’s presence in the warehouse to the Minister.”

“The Minister will have his guts for garters.” Jax fanned the cards in his hand.

“Don’t bet on it. The whole situation is nothing but a joke to MI6,” Murphy added.

Bodie started humming. Everyone turned to look at him.

“A chicken and an egg are lying in bed.”

“Oh God,” Doyle moaned. “Now you’ve done it, Murph. You know better than to mention the word joke around Mr Morecambe here.”

Kicking his partner under the table, Bodie continued, “The chicken is stretched back smoking a cigar with a very satisfied smile on his face. The egg is frowning and looking extremely frustrated. The egg says, ‘Guess we’ve answered that question.’"

Three poker chips bounced off Bodie’s chest.

“What question?” Anson asked, befuddled.

“You know - the chicken or the egg?” Bodie stared at Anson in disbelief.

Anson still looked puzzled.

Doyle patted him on the shoulder. “Have another drink and ignore the prat. He’s never playing with a full deck.” It was Doyle’s turn to be a target, a chip settled neatly into his hair.

“Almost lost this today, mate.” Bodie tweaked a curl as he removed the chip. He ran his finger along the plaster on Doyle’s temple. “Next time, Batman, remember you’ve got a partner, yeah?”

Doyle nodded ruefully. “Cowley told me the same thing.”

“Ah, so that’s what the tete-a-tete in the hallway was.”

“Bad was it?” Jax asked, tapping his cards on the table. “Who’s in?”

Doyle shook his head. “Cowley’s alright.” He dealt himself one card and looked to Murphy to start the betting.

Murphy threw in two chips, Jax checked. Bodie looked at each of them with a satisfied smirk. Humming to himself again, he raised Murphy’s bet by two. Anson folded. Everyone’s attention turned to Doyle. He ignored them, his thumb drawing circles on his curled index finger as he intently studied his cards.

“C’mon, Doyle,” Jax finally complained, “you going to bet or fold.”

Bodie snorted, picking at the front of Doyle’s shirt. “Fold?? The lad doesn’t even fold his laundry.”

Doyle smiled in agreement. “Don’t rush me, now. Could have a Royal Flush going here.”

“Been visiting the bog down at Kensington Palace again, eh? Thought Cowley talked to you about loitering there.”

“Very funny.” Doyle placed four chips on the table and called. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Murphy laid down three jacks.

“Beats me,” Jax sighed, showing a pair of tens.

Bodie grinned as he showed a full house, jacks high. “I’ve always said, poker is like sex - if you don’t have a good partner you better have a good hand!” He winked at Doyle.

"Now that’s disgusting,” Anson cringed.

“Well, sunshine,” Bodie turned to Doyle, “Show us what you’ve got.”

Doyle stood up, his hand going to his zip.

Murphy leaned over and shoved him off balance. He managed not to fall. Throwing his cards down on the table, Doyle said sadly, “Wasted me chips on a bluff. I’ve actually got nothing.”

“Now I wouldn’t say that,” Murphy leered as he eyed Doyle up and down.

“Not tonight, petal,” Doyle batted his eyelashes and flicked the tip of Murphy’s nose.

Bodie cleared his throat.

Doyle’s lips twitched as he brushed against Bodie and gestured toward the kitchen. “Another drink while I’m up, anyone?”

Bodie gathered the cards while Doyle went to the fridge to collect the lagers.

Bodie started to deal. Doyle, passing out the beer, reached out and put a hand on the deck. He looked at the other three agents. “Do you know why they wouldn’t let Bodie play poker in Africa?”

“Doyle,” Bodie warned.

“Because he was a cheetah!” A rain of peanuts followed him back to his chair.

Bodie resumed shuffling. “What are a man’s three favourite games?”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Checker, Chess, and Poker.”

After a moment of silence there were more groans.

Before Anson could ask, Bodie told him, “Say it quickly.”

“Oh.” Anson’s face turned red.

Bodie shook his head and sighed. He turned to Doyle and all traces of humour left his face.

“You really were lucky today, Ray. Over played your hand in that warehouse.”

“Nah, had an ace-in-the-hole, didn’t I?”

“Yeah?”

“You.”

Bodie leaned across the table and jabbed a finger into Doyle’s chest. “No one knew where you’d disappeared to, including me! Anyone in the room could have shot you when you dropped in.”

“It was that or let Willis’ man get away clean,” Doyle said defensively. “I had an opening and I took it. Put all me cards on the table, as it were.” He gave Bodie a small grin.

Bodie tapped the plaster decorating Doyle’s temple. “Not worth the jackpot, mate.”

“No, I guess it’s not.” Closing his eyes, Doyle looked down.

“And speaking of cards and pots,” Murphy broke into the uneasy silence, “Let’s get back to the game.”

After the dealing, betting and drawing, Bodie put his cards face down on the table and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “This one’s mine, lads! Best hand of the night.”

Doyle looked at him sceptically. “He’s lying.”

“How can you tell?” Murphy asked.

“His chips are moving.”

Anson rolled his eyes and folded.

“Not having a good night, are we?” Jax teased.

“If I didn’t have bad luck I’d have no luck at all.”

“Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her. But once they are in hand he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.”

“Bodie’s words of wisdom?”

“Voltaire, actually, you philistine.”

“Well, pardon me, I’m sure,” Doyle huffed.

“Okay, Wizard of Odds,” Murphy interrupted the banter, “show us this matchless poker hand.”

“Everyone all in?” Bodie asked with a touch of innocence. “Time for the showdown.”

“You’d think poker was a blood sport the way he’s behaving,” Anson whinged.

“Read ‘em and weep, lads!” He reached across the table to scoop up all the chips.

“Oi – show us the cards before you go takin’ all the money!” Doyle protested. “It’s not like we-”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Cowley entered the rest room.

“Sir.” Bodie stood up. “We thought you’d be with the Minister.”

“I’m sure you did, 3.7. I’m looking for the reports on today’s operation. You do remember those? It’s why you were all sent in here, I believe?” Cowley watched as they quickly and guiltily collected the cards and the chips and the beer. He hid a small grin as they left the room.

He thought about the conversation he’d overheard. Bodie quoting Voltaire. _Make the most of the cards you’re dealt._ He’d done so. He’d recruited a pack of wildcards. And he’d learned a valuable lesson. The trick in playing them successfully was learning when to hold them and when to fold. He decided he’d let them have the rest of the night off. Reports could wait till morning.

Curious now, he walked over to the table and turned over Bodie’s cards. “A shame really,” he murmured, “a full house, kings and queens.” Then he laughed, “A Buckingham Palace.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Bistcon zine: http://bistocon.org/zine.html
> 
> Thanks to cyanne, macklingirl and shooting2kill for their help!


End file.
